


Who Waits Forever Anyway

by echolalaphile



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale wouldn't know calm if it hit him in the face, M/M, Missing Scene, awkward confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 18:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echolalaphile/pseuds/echolalaphile
Summary: It had been a bloody difficult week, he’d overdrawn reserves he didn’t know he had, and - oh, to Hell with it.  He had literally faced down Hell that afternoon, what was one more thing?  The most frightening possible scenario was already behind him, wasn’t it?No.  No, it wasn’t.  But, to Hell with it.  To Heaven?  To Somewhere with it.  To Somewhere with all of it.





	Who Waits Forever Anyway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Little One](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Little+One).



> My first attempt at fiction writing in fifteen years. My first completed attempt since high school. Eep.  
> Thanks to [elroi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elroi) and [MilesHibernus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mileshibernus) for beta reading, cheerleading, and general awesomeness.  
> (And no, my loyal podfic listeners, I have not forgotten you. <3)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Update: There is now a sequel, here: [_Touch My World With Your Fingertips_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20166079)

They sat in comfortable silence on the bus. Reasonably comfortable, anyway. Apparently comfortable. Aziraphale supposed it was possible that Crowley’s thoughts were racing as fast as his own, but if they were it hadn’t affected his usual loose-limbed sprawl over the bus seat. He sat, or rather lounged, next to Aziraphale, his left arm slung over the back of the seat, staring - presumably, blast those sunglasses - out the window next to him. The hand nearest Aziraphale had been - not that Aziraphale was watching it out of the corner of his eye - tapping out some bebop rhythm on his thigh for the last quarter hour or so. 

Aziraphale himself was sitting as upright as he ever did, hands primly in his lap, and if he was twisting his fingers nervously - well, he was a nervous being normally, wasn’t he? Surely the fact that he was more agitated than he could ever remember being was sufficiently hidden that -

“Spit it out, angel,” Crowley drawled, without shifting his gaze from the window. “I can hear your gears grinding, you’re going to start leaking steam from your ears in a moment.”

Well. So much for masking his distress. Aziraphale made an attempt at a light, self-deprecating laugh. It came out sounding a bit strangled.

“It has been rather a … difficult week, hasn’t it?”

“You could say that.” Crowley turned and quirked an eyebrow at him, holding his eyes a moment before returning his gaze - presumably, blast it - to the window. His foot - the one next to the window, not the one nearly touching Aziraphale, not that he was acutely aware of its proximity - began tapping a counterrhythm to his fingers. Tappatap tap tap, tap-tappatap tap taptap… definitely bebop. Probably… Prince, was it? Something like Prince. *  Definitely indicating that he’d made what effort he intended to make toward encouraging Aziraphale to talk.

And Aziraphale seriously considered letting the silence descend again. It had been a bloody difficult week, he’d overdrawn reserves he didn’t know he had, and - oh, to Hell with it. He had literally faced down Hell that afternoon, what was one more thing? The most frightening possible scenario was already behind him, wasn’t it?

No. No, it wasn’t. But, to Hell with it. To Heaven? To Somewhere with it. To Somewhere with all of it.

“I love you,” he said, so quietly only another supernatural being could have heard him. Beside him, Crowley’s hand froze in mid-tap.

“Don’t - that is, I don’t need you to say anything. Honestly I think if you do I’ll never be able to finish, and I need - I just need to say it. After all - after everything I’ve done and said this last -” how long? More than this week, certainly. He had no idea how to quantify it, so he gave up and let it hang - "I just - needed to tell you. Needed you to know.”

Aziraphale paused, not daring to turn his head. A flick of his eyes showed him Crowley still sprawled in the same outwardly relaxed position. Only his utter stillness betrayed his tension.

“I was ashamed, for a long time, once I’d actually got round to admitting it to myself,” he plowed on. “Loving a demon, I assumed it was a - flaw in my character? After all, Heaven is supposed to be the side of Right -” beside him, Crowley snorted softly. Aziraphale coughed. “Yes, yes, I know, but you know it’s never been in my nature to question. And for a long time I thought I only had more questions because of your malign influence, so I ignored them as well as I could. It took - oh, until perhaps two days ago - for me to finally conclude that the lines between malign and beneficent were placed differently than I’d thought. And that - and that even if they were not, it didn’t matter.”

He felt, rather than saw, Crowley’s eyebrow quirk. 

“I thought they just didn’t understand the implications of what they were doing,” Aziraphale said softly. “I thought I could show them they were mistaken, and -”

“You thought you could convince the entire Heavenly Host to stand down,” Crowley muttered to the window, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Yes yes, the more fool I for thinking they might prefer to be _right_ instead of merely _righteous_ ,” snapped Aziraphale. “And certainly their lack of interest made my subsequent decisions easier. But I realized even as I was arguing with them that it didn’t matter anyway, because -” he swallowed. Beside him, Crowley had stilled again. “Because when it came down to it, I realized I couldn’t align myself with Heaven, or with anyone, if it meant I couldn’t have you,” he finished.

It took all six thousand years of accumulated willpower to turn his eyes to Crowley. The demon still lounged beside him, staring out the bus window, looking for all the world as if he hadn’t been listening to any of it. Only - Aziraphale caught his breath - Crowley’s right hand was flipped over on his thigh, palm up, formerly tapping fingers relaxed and open. 

Carefully, Aziraphale moved his own hand over top of it, lacing their fingers together. Did Crowley’s shoulders relax microscopically? Aziraphale thought so, but it might have been wishful thinking. After a moment -

“Don’t ask me to say it,” Crowley said, still addressing the window. “Angel, I -”

“I know, dear boy,” Aziraphale interrupted him. He suddenly realized Crowley was looking at his reflection in the window. Had he been watching all along? Aziraphale looked him in the reflection of the sunglasses. Two removes seemed to be an acceptable degree of eye contact - Crowley didn’t turn his head, at least. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s thumb stroke softly over his own; his eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he tried to wrestle his train of thought back on track. “It might be better to have a - a code, anyway?” he ventured. “On the off chance of untoward listening ears?”

Crowley made a noise that sounded like “pfft,” but his fingers tightened briefly around Aziraphale’s, so Aziraphale let it lie. 

After a few minutes of quiet, Crowley’s foot started tapping again. Slower now - a different song, Aziraphale decided, though he still didn’t recognize it, even when Crowley started whistling the tune. His hand stayed firmly wrapped around Aziraphale’s, fingers squeezing intermittently in time to the song, and Aziraphale found that he was quite happy to spend the remainder of the bus ride in what now actually was comfortable silence. They still had far too much to discuss - Agnes’ last prophecy, for a start - but it could wait until they reached London.

For now, they were doing all right.

**Author's Note:**

> *It wasn’t Prince.(back)  
> ___________
> 
> The songs in Crowley's head are _Another One Bites the Dust_ and _Doing All Right._
> 
> The title is from _Who Wants To Live Forever._
> 
> I've loved this book for over twenty years, and the tv show was - very nearly - everything I ever wanted.


End file.
